Desperate
by Bagel Queen Blaspheme
Summary: .:SlashCZ:.Casey’s feeling a little desperate.


Title: Desperate

Summary: .:Slash(CZ):.Casey's feeling a little desperate.

Author: Bagel Queen Blaspheme

Rating: T

Warnings: Slash (der…) and that's about it!

Disclaimer: Despite my best efforts to steal them, capture them, and keep them, Casey and Zeke still do not belong to me…but if they did shifty eyes…oh the possibilities!

A/N: Alright, everybody, this fic is pretty much a boatload of firsts for me. It's my first Faculty fic, my first Casey/Zeke fic, my first Slash fic, and my first ever post (pretty much the only thing it's not a first of is writing), so please, be gentle, and remember, I did try. I suppose, I should probably have more to say than that, but alas, I am out of words, so, enjoy the fic!

**Desperate**

Casey watches, terrified as his father tears his room apart. He's done something (what, he isn't quite sure) to make the man believe he's on drugs again. Now, just because he has been experimenting with drugs, doesn't mean he's been letting it affect his every day life, and it certainly doesn't mean he's stupid enough to store anything in his room. No. That's not why he's scared. Not this time.

As his father ransacks his room, tearing through his closet, looking under his mattress, ripping the bindings off his books, Casey stands frozen, praying to whatever god there may be that his father doesn't find the box. Because, in the darkest corner of Casey's closet, there is a small door, a door which opens into a small compartment, a door that hides his most precious belongings. Casey can't help but tremble in fear as his father's hand brushes against the door, grabbing onto a wad of clothes, sending Casey to his knees in fear, stopping his heart for just a moment, but then its all over. His father hasn't discovered the box, hasn't discovered anything really, and so Casey watches as the man huffs and leaves the room, telling him that he's grounded, and that he has to clean up the mess. Casey sighs in relief, his eyes flickering briefly to the phone, which his father has forgotten to remove, and then he crosses the room to his closet.

He kneels on top of his clothes and reaches into the shadows, pulling the door open and gingerly removing the shoebox that is sitting in the small compartment. For a moment, he just sits there, cradling the box to his chest, and then he takes a breath and pulls the lid off. His fingers skate softly over the paper inside, hundreds of creased, worn, and folded letters, lying in wait for him to read them. They are the chronicle of the past year of his life, and he can't help but smile as he picks one out. The handwriting is wretched, chicken scratch, really, and Casey thinks that maybe Zeke wasn't entirely focused when he was writing it. Of course, he realizes when he's finished reading it and his eyes are dilated, his breathing heavy, and his groin aching, that he probably wouldn't be able to focus writing something like that either. And the thing is…it's not even the most explicit thing in the box.

Casey sits there for over an hour reading through the letters, some of them hot enough to make him cream his shorts, and others sweet enough to give him butterflies (he's always been surprised at how poetic Zeke really is, although he supposes it fits). When it finally gets to be too much for him, he closes the box, puts it back in its place and covers the door before crawling over to the phone. He can barely stand the wait while the other line rings, and he's about to hang up when a sultry, "Hello," comes. Casey can't help but wonder if Zeke always answers like that.

He takes a breath, attempting to calm himself before answering, but he still sounds as desperate as he is when he gives a strangled, "Are you busy?"

"Not if it you want something." Zeke answers, smiling. He knows that voice, and he knows exactly where this conversation is going.

"Come get me." Casey says it like an order, but Zeke knows it was meant as a question. He's already heading out the door.

"Alright." And the he's gone, phone tossed on the couch, keys in hand.

Casey sits there waiting for what seems like an eternity, but he knows that it's really only been five minutes when he hears the roar of Zeke's car pulling up to his house. He's out of his room in a flash, and despite his parents' valiant efforts to stop him; they are unable to touch him as he runs from the house, ignoring the angered screams. Zeke pulls away before he even shuts his door. For a few moments, they're silent, and then Zeke says quietly, "Are you okay?"

Casey nods, turning bright eyes on Zeke. "Yeah." His voice is thick, and Zeke knows he's not really, but it's nothing he can't fix. Casey knows not to distract him while he's driving, but the second they are in the house, he has Zeke pinned to the wall, his mouth desperate as it finds Zeke's. And for a minute, they just stay like that, but then Zeke pulls away, gathering a shaking Casey in his arms and whispering quietly, "What's wrong?"

Casey just shakes his head, burying his face in Zeke's neck as he tries to think of something to say. Nothing is wrong, because everything is perfect. And then, Casey realizes that maybe that's what's bothering him. Casey thinks he's not sure he could deal with losing Zeke, and he realizes that for a few moments there, when his father was so dangerously close to discovering their secret, he thought he might. And suddenly, it hits him, and he can't help the sob that escapes him.

Zeke is worried now, because Casey doesn't usually cry. He's been hurt often enough that he's learned to hide his tears, and he realizes that whatever's wrong, it's bigger than he (and probably Casey, even) realized. And for some reason, all he can do is hold Casey tighter, wishing he knew how to fix whatever is wrong, because, for some strange reason, he hates that Casey is hurting. It only takes him a moment of contemplating to realize why. When he does, though, the words tear their way from his lips before he can think to stop them, "I love you, Case."

For a second, he's shocked, and he doesn't know why he said it, but then Casey is looking up at him, eyes wide and disbelieving. "What?" His voice cracks as he says it and its all Zeke can do not to lean down and kiss him then.

"I love you." At this point, Zeke is unable to hold Casey's eyes, and he casts his own to the floor. "I'm sorry." He doesn't know why, but he says it anyways, because it seems like Casey might be angry with him.

"I'm not." Casey's voice is strong when he says it, and his eyes are determined. Zeke doesn't even have time to process the information before Casey's lips are on his, soft, but demanding. And as Casey's tongue finds its way into his mouth, Zeke can't help but hope that means what he thinks it does.

Fin

A/N: Okay, how was it? I know the end seems a little abrupt…but I just couldn't think to write anything after that. Reviews would be nice…but no obligations. I hope everybody enjoyed it!


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